Or her, either. Elisabeth was a slippery little thing. She was a bit cold and dark and damned near impossible to pin down, which might be way he liked her. Not in the romantic sense, obviously. Had he fancied her, he thought he'd much rather staple his testicles to the common room sofa; it'd be less painful.

School was almost ending and there was a waft of excitement in the air…which he hated. Rafe didn't really mind school that much, if he was going to be honest. The classes were important and the rules were fine but the only real problem he had was with the students. He was indifferent about going home. The Moreaus lived in a pretty small town and after about a fortnight, it was easy to get bored. He was longing for his parents to ditch the seaside town and go somewhere more exciting for a few weeks.

This entire thing had sort of spiralled out of control and Raphael had the sneaking suspicion that Elisabeth was doing it out of spite. It had been an offhanded comment in a class they shared. They'd made a bet. They each picked a student in the Muggle Studies class and the first one to give up, won. He'd picked an exasperated sixth year student and she'd placed her bets on a rather inept fourth year. Rafe's pick had tanked first. The poor boy had launched his hand mixer across the room because it kept sticking. So, he'd won.

But it felt like he'd lost as he arched an eyebrow at the pink monstrosity before him. "You couldn't have picked anywhere else?" He asked Elsa with a frown. In a way, he was hoping she'd call it all off. He would have let her, too. She had this weird sort of thing going on with an Ombrelune boy and naturally, Raphael thought of himself as a threat and didn't want to get involved. But then again, winding up Elisabeth Sturm was so easy, he could do it with his eyes closed and one hand behind his back.

With a heavy-laden sigh, he hauled the door open and waited impatiently for her to enter. Dressed casually in well fitting jeans and a thin jumper (because Heaven forbid she warranted any effort), his big brown eyes blinked at all the fresh flowers and automatically, he gave an almighty sneeze. It was no surprise that Rafe suffered from hayfever, which made him think this was another reason she'd decided to go here. The bet was lunch but he'd be happy for a take away coffee and calling it quits.

With his arms folded across his chest, the Papillonlisse student very much hoped he projected "this is not a date" vibe as far as the eye could see. Stepping around Elisabeth, he dropped himself reluctantly into a table near the window; the table with the least amount of fresh flowers as he blew his nose into a fiercely pink napkin.

Before he'd managed to get comfortable, a lanky looking man approached, wearing a pink apron and a large smile, an overweight pug in tow. "Hello!" Felix said and Raphael presumed he was the owner. "What would you lovebirds like?" He asked, saccharine sweet and Rafe felt his ears turn pink. The man waited impatiently, his bright eyes flicking back and forth between the students as he was positively vibrating with excitement at the prospect of a date. His fat little dog was waiting too, its tongue lolling out of his mouth as though expecting the pair to drop food.

"I'd like a frozen strawberry lemonade, please," Raphael said politely as Felix scribbled it down on his lurid pink notepad before turning his gaze to Elisabeth to order. "And we haven't had a chance to look at the menu yet." The man got the wrong end of the stick. "Oh, I see," he said with a sage nod. "I'll be back in a little while." With that, he gave Raphael a lavish wink and bounced back to the counter, the pug wiggling after him. "No, it's not like that. We're just --" he didn't get time to finish and he felt his ears turning pinker and his uncomfortableness rising. He winced, sighed, sneezed once more and sunk down into his seat. "Can we not go outside?" He whined to Elisabeth before nodding to the kitchen where he could see Felix making the drinks and waving at them enthusiastically.

“You wanted lunch, we’re getting lunch.” Elisabeth replied matter-of-factly, “Would you prefer Rebert’s?” She raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to say as much. She was annoyed that she was having to go through this farce in the first place, but if she had to do it she’d make Raphael never want to take her anywhere ever again. It was partly her own fault for agreeing to the bet, but she had been so confident that Capucine would secure her the win. It wasn’t about the prize, it had just been about bragging rights.

Elsa stepped inside as Raphael held the door for her, mildly surprised by the gesture but doing her best not to show it. She knew she wasn’t one of the popular girls like Gabby or Nata, so she wasn’t sure why Rafe was wasting his time with her. Had it been a bet within a bet? Well, if it was he’d regret it.

She was wearing something she considered presentable but perhaps intentionally not to Raphael’s usually high standards; an oversized, oatmeal-coloured knit sweater over a grey-wash dungaree minidress and plain cotton t-shirt, with slouchy wool socks and well-worn ankle boots. Her long oaken hair was plaited down her back.

The Ombrelune sat after Raphael did, the hint of a smirk playing across her lips briefly before she managed to stifle it. She didn’t hate Rafe, but she wasn’t sure what sort of game he was playing and until she did, she would enjoy watching him suffer from what appeared to be hayfever. How unfortunate that she should pick this café, full of flowers – if only she had known that he was allergic… if only.

Elsa frowned immediately on being referred to as a ‘lovebird’. With Raphael? Ugh. Not that she had someone else in mind, either. Her murky-green eyes quickly scanned the menu. It was a warm day and she didn’t feel like a hot drink, but she also couldn’t fathom ordering a frozen strawberry lemonade. She looked up at Raphael with an expression somewhere between disbelief and disgust. What planet was he on? She turned her face up towards the man serving them, her expression devoid of a smile, “I’ll have sparkling apple juice, please.” It wasn’t as good as the apfelschorle back home, but it was close enough.

Elisabeth appreciated Rafe’s pushback and chewed on the inside of her cheek in an attempt to hide her smirk, up until the waiter apparently understood something that she hadn’t. She’d been looking at her menu and missed whatever unspoken communication had occurred between the two men. Her frown returned. She didn’t like to be made fun of, so if that was Raphael’s plan he’d better think twice about it.

“No.” She said firmly, hiding her suspicion for the time being. “We’re here now. It’s fine. Besides, I can see @Gabrielle Delacour and Louis outside and I can hear him from here.” She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes, tapping her fingertips on the table edge as she sat slouched in her chair. A sly little grin spread across her lips as the Papillonlisse sniffed again, “Do you have a cold?”

He winced. No, he would not prefer Rebert's and she bloody well knew it. This all seemed like a great idea at the time, up until the point where he'd remembered that Elisabeth was the Devil in a mini skirt. Instead, Raphael offered her a smile that was half sarcasm, half anger. This bet was supposed to put her through the ringer but it turned out to him being so far out of his comfort zone, he was practically in orbit around it. Most of the coastal town seemed to feel like Valentine's Day on steroids.

They were sitting now and it felt like being strapped into a rollercoaster; terrifying and claustrophobic. His mother had raised his better than being rude to ladies but Elisabeth was no lady and he was going to make sure she was paying for both meals.

He shot Elisabeth a look that clearly said what? as he ordered his fruity drink. It was summer and it was hot outside and she wasn't any better by ordering an apple juice. "Did you think I drank black coffee and children's tears?" Rafe asked as he tilted his head. Maybe it didn't fit in with his brand but he didn't care. His eyes flickered back over to the man who was mincing back to his work station. Unsettled as he was, Raphael didn't really have the heart to burst the man's bubble. This place was a pastel coloured dream, it must be packed to the rafters with lovestruck couples. And speaking of --

"Really?" He replied placidly as the leaned back in his chair. "I hadn't noticed." That was a lie. He'd recognise that unique shade of silvery blonde hair anywhere and out of habit, his big dark eyes flicked past Elsa's head and onto the seating area outside. Gabrielle hadn't told him she was dating. Then again, the girl didn't tell him anything any more. Raphael sat stiffly, almost as though every muscle in his body was fighting to keep him anchored to the chair. Miss. Delacour's presence was like a siren's call. Or an alarm bell, depending on how she treated him that day.

When asked if he had a cold, Raphael let out another loud sneeze. He glared at her swiftly as he sniffled. He could already feel his eyes stinging as he sat there. He didn't know Elisabeth terribly well but had she picked this place knowing that he had hayfever, he was impressed. It was an underhand tactic and rather than be mad at her, he was oddly enamoured. "No," he snapped shortly. "I'm allergic to your bad attitude," he added acidly as he blew his nose loudly.

Without waiting, his large hands were over the flowers. With an unexpectedly gentle touch, Rafe began to pluck out the stamen from a nearby lily with ease before wrapping it up in a clean tissue and placing it on another table. He really didn't want Felix to see him destroying his fancy displays. "That's where the pollen is," he told Elisabeth without being asked as he sniffled, pausing to cough as he rubbed the end of his itchy nose. He wasn't sure she gave a shit but it was best to explain his actions anyway.

As Felix reappeared, pug in tow, he deposited the drinks with a sparkle in his eye. He had his quill poised above the notepad he was holding. Raphael had the fleeting desire to order a steak, just to be obtuse. "I'd love the Swiss chard tart," Raphael told the man politely as his glittery quill scribbled over the paper. "I'll be back for desserts later on. Not that you need it. I bet you're sweet enough already," Felix said as he wiggled his eyebrows, causing Raphael to offer a bland smile in return. "Not sweet enough, apparently."

Felix hovered expectantly, as though waiting for drama when another man appeared behind him. Taller and decidedly more haggard looking than the owner, he simply grabbed Felix's apron strings and hauled him backwards, causing the blonde man to squawk in surprise. The spectacle actually made Raphael laugh, lighting up his handsome face briefly before he let out a cough.

He was on the verge of asking Elisabeth if she would do him the favour of pulling out his eyes and washing them in the Mediterranean for him. There was a beat of silence. Elisabeth really did look pretty but he felt like he couldn't tell her because she'd think he was being sarcastic or rude. "You look less like a troll out of your school uniform," he settled on as he sucked his drink loudly through his straw.

Elisabeth quirked an eyebrow at Raphael’s defensive snark. “I did, actually.” She replied smoothly. The older boy was hard to pin down. One minute he was making scathing remarks about her, or being catty about their peers, and the next he was being downright gentlemanly, friendly almost. He had more moodswings than most girls. Though, Elsa thought, it seemed most of the Beauxbatons boys were overly feminine in their temperaments. From what she’d heard from her cousins who attended Durmstrang, the boys there were a lot more… masculine, for want of a better word.

Elsa narrowed her eyes at Rafe. He was just like every other boy at Beauxbatons; swooning over @Gabrielle Delacour just because she was pretty. The German knew that it was much more than that, but it didn’t matter. As far as she was concerned, the only thing Gabby had going for her were her looks. Elsa was jealous, though she would never admit it, of her fellow fifth year. The Ombrelune didn’t crave attention, but it would be nice to not be likened to ugly magical creatures quite so often – she hadn’t yet realised this was largely down to demeanour, rather than her physical appearance. “Of course you hadn’t.” she said with an obvious undertone of sarcasm, a by-product of the envy she couldn’t quite hide so well.

“You appear to be allergic to something,” she commented quietly, the hint of a smug little smirk playing on her lips. The blonde jerked a little at Raphael’s sudden movement, and watched with interest as he dissected the flower. Elsa blinked, then nodded.

“The lemon crêpes, please.” Elsa purposefully avoided catching Raphael’s eye, should he choose to comment on her ordering a dish more suited for dessert. She didn’t advertise it, but the Beater had a sweet tooth and if she was paying for her lunch, she was going to order exactly what she wanted. She always ate her dinner before moving onto dessert in the dining hall, but it seemed irrelevant out of school. Elsa picked up her glass of juice and drank through the straw, trying not to choke at the waiter’s words.

Elisabeth blushed and raised one hand up to her forehead, elbow on the table, shielding her face from Felix and half from Rafe. Thankfully, the pair were rescued by a second man, presumably the owner. “Ugh,” she let out a disgusted noise, “remind me never to come here again.”

"Marvellous," Raphael was quick to respond to Elisabeth's first impressions of him. His eyebrows arched in surprise and maybe a little bit of enjoyment. He wasn't aware he was projecting those sorts of vibes but looking back, he was rather pleased. He'd rather be thought of as being aloof and guarded than one of those poetry reciting wet wipes. Maybe he should invest in a black roll neck jumper and matching beret.

Swiftly, Rafe arched an eyebrow at his companion. "Green isn't your colour," he offered Elsa smoothly as he ran his eyes down the menu he'd already read, careful not to make her feel more uncomfortable. Gabrielle had that effect on people, though. He couldn't decide if she was cruel or just careless with people's emotions. Either way, the blonde elicited some sort of reaction. And they messed with his head.

With care, he wiped his long fingers on a napkin and he then rolled up the stamen within the cloth and pushed it aside. Allergic to something? "Your bad attitude, perhaps?" Raphael asked casually with a broad smile. Pausing, he shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. "Flowers aren't my thing," he added as he sniffled, resisting the urge to pull his own eyes out and try to wash them in the sea. Beauxbatons in summer was beautiful but it was also a ball-ache. It had all types of pollen, tree and grass and everything in between. And Raphael happened to be allergic to the lot.

She ordered lemon crepes and it was on the tip of his tongue to say that she liked bitter things possibly because of her bitter personality. With a look out of the window towards Gabrielle out of habit, he scratched his nose. In actual fact, he was rather fond of Elisabeth. He thought she was witty and smart and oddly funny but the moment he started to be nice to her would the moment he'd have to keep it up and he wasn't sure he could handle the trauma.

At her reaction, Rafe frowned. He was floored and couldn't understand why she'd overreacted. "Was that not the right thing to say?" He enquired politely. The school uniforms were shapeless and sometimes constricting and he'd merely said that she didn't look like a troll. Did most girls not want to hear that? Confused, he put down his glass and sighed heavily.

"Then why did you pick it?" He asked Elsa as she rudely said she'd never return. Behind him, Raphael could see the owner flapping at him frantically. Turning around, he looked over his shoulder and mouthed the word what? at the man in the pink apron. Poor Felix looked as though he might have kittens as he witnessed the nosedive in their "date". Wrinkling his nose in confusion, he turned back to face Elisabeth with wide eyes as he folded his arms across his chest, crossed his legs at his ankles and reclined in his seat.

"If you want to leave the cash and go, you can," Raphael added helpfully as he tilted his head at her peculiar behaviour, pausing to blow his nose loudly. "You know, if it's more convenient for you. Oh thanks," he said distractedly as Elisabeth's pancakes and his tart was placed down. Raphael managed to pick up his cutlery before Felix forcefully whacked him across the back of the head with a rolled up tea towel, catapulting him forward into the table. "What the fu--" he blurted out, mystified. "That is not how you treat a lady!" Felix insisted, causing Raphael to recoil in surrender. "And that's not how you treat your paying customers!" The teenager blurted out angrily as he rubbed the sore spot on his head. "I also wouldn't call her a lady -- ow!" Raphael complained as he was smacked again.

Elsa shot Raphael a dark look, but otherwise chose to drop it – she didn’t want to spend the afternoon talking about Gabrielle Delacour.

“Ha ha.” She deadpanned, her scowl remaining firmly upon her features until he all-but-admitted that he did indeed have a pollen allergy. “Well, what a shame we chose the only café in Chatoeil with a flower wall.” The Ombrelune couldn’t hide her smirk, and didn’t really make much of an attempt to. “If we ever do this again we can go somewhere else.” She said as she took the pink linen napkin and placed it in her lap, smoothing it out just to have something to do with her hands. This wasn’t like going for a hot chocolate with Donatella, and Nata was the only person that Elsa really did this sort of thing with. Elisabeth didn’t think herself anti-social, but she was also definitely not a social butterfly; she could comfortably count her real friends on her hands – perhaps just the one hand. She wondered if she would include Rafe on the list.

“Sorry, I meant—him.” Elsa nodded her head in the direction of their ‘waiter’, who she felt must have some sort of stake in the business to be able to mince around in the manner he was, talking to customers so forwardly. The German girl had been so focused on how uncomfortable she was, she’d barely even registered what the older boy had said. “Not that your compliment was exactly nice either.” She glared at him, taking a drink before continuing, “That’s like me saying you look less like a depressed poet out of yours. Or is it more? I can’t decide.” She sneered softly, so as not to draw any more attention to them from the nosy owner.

“Because I like the food.” Elsa said simply, but that wasn’t the only reason. Ever since she’d kissed Séverin, or rather he’d kissed her, she’d felt a little confused by what exactly she was supposed to do. They hadn’t talked and he was acting like nothing had happened. She couldn’t ask anyone for advice without revealing what had happened – and she would not give Séverin the satisfaction of knowing she’d been thinking about it, or him. She’d not been thrilled at the idea of going anywhere with Raphael, because it looked far too much like a date – but then she realised perhaps that was what she needed. Practice, of sorts. And also maybe, if Séverin saw Elsa out enjoying herself, he’d realise they could do that together too. If he asked. She wasn’t going to ask him. She didn’t even really know if that was what she wanted.

“No, it’s fine.” She sat up straighter again and willed her scowl away in an effort to at least appear as though she was enjoying herself. Their food arrived and Elsa picked up her fork, then almost dropped it as she heard a soft thwack of a teatowel hitting the back of Raphael’s head. Her free hand flew up to cover her mouth, part in shock and partly to hide her grin. Elsa’s eyes widened as the owner took another shot at Rafe, her mouth falling open but no noise coming out. A sort of stunned silence fell over the three of them, and Felix retreated with an accomplished look on his face after smiling pleasantly at Elsa.

The blonde bit her lip and tried not to giggle as she swapped her fork into her left hand and picked up her knife, focusing intently on her food. She cleared her throat, as she cut up the crepes, “I think I better stay or you might get attacked again.” Popping a bite into her mouth and smirking at him.

Why was it that there were only seemingly two types of girls that went to Beauxbatons? There were the cute girls, the type that were too kind and too ditzy and seemed to think they could save the world. Then there were girls like the one sitting across from him. Dark, cool, sarcastic and aloof. He blinked at her lazily. He should have known she'd pull a stunt like this but he arched an eyebrow swiftly. If we ever do this again. Well, look at that; he had one foot in the door.

"That's actually my chosen aesthetic, thank you," Raphael drawled with a languid smile. He didn't really want to go down this route - the I'm rubber and you're glue one but when in Rome. "Be careful," he warned Elsa. "You'll end up in my next sonnet."

Rafe tutted darkly and clenched his eyes shut, the motion giving him a very brief respite from the intense itchiness in his eyeballs. He wanted to scratch them out and he could feel the little annoying pinpricks as they began to water. But no. Raphael was so passive-aggressive, he'd sit through this one. Unable to help himself, he sneezed and pulled a face soon after. By now, his handsome face was a little blotchy as he sat in the angrily pink room.

She was probably having boy trouble. It seemed like a rife epidemic at the school as of late. Maybe it was because it was summer and everyone's hormones were going a bit wonky. He looked at her quickly. Elisabeth was a pretty girl. Artistically speaking, her face was rather symmetrical. Full lips, pale skin, high brows with a long neck. She had a sort of old-fashioned face and he wasn't being rude. She had the type that would look good in a romantic Renaissance oil painting. Clearing his throat, he blew his nose just in time before he started to think of her as cute.

It was all over quickly in a flat of tea towels and yelps of surprise. Stunned and a little embarrassed, Raphael rubbed the back of his head. The man - his assailant - seemed content as he minced off, letting a silence settle on the pair as the few other diners stared and then started talking again. Rafe furrowed his eyebrows as he turned in his seat to glare at Felix, who was confidently avoiding his eye as he polished glasses with unnecessary force.

By now, the tips of Raphael's ears had turned pink in shame as the sounds of the café came rushing up to meet him. "Well," he said hoarsely as he slid a hand over his shirtfront. He cleared his throat and picked up his cutlery, mirroring Elisabeth as he cut into his tart with very little desire to eat it. There was a suggestion box near the door. Felix was evidently looking to stroke his own ego with his adoring fans but the Papillonlisse boy was already getting ready to attack it with a hammer.

"Never a dull day," he mused, his voice sounding deeper than usual as he ate his food in small bites, avoiding Elisabeth's eye. Still feeling fragile, Raphael shot her a dark look. "Remind me to laugh," he sniped at her and instantly regretted it. After all, it wasn't really her fault. Normal chatter at the bistro had seemed to resume and Rafe relaxed a little more into his seat. He actually managed to snort with laughter. He shook his head. "I blame you," he joked, half-heartedly.

With another frown, he rubbed the back of his head, almost out of habit. "So, what's going on with you?" Raphael asked innocuously as he slurped his drink through his straw. He didn't mention that gaunt looking boy who seemed to be sniffing around her, following her like a puppy. He assumed it was boy problems and like his younger sister put it; they all had cooties.

Elsa rolled her eyes and reached for the sugar bowl. She scooped out a heaped teaspoon and sprinkled it over her crepes, then picked up the grilled half-lemon that had come with her ‘meal’ and squeezed it over for an extra sour hit. Perhaps that was the sort of thing Raphael could liken her to in his hypothetical poem: a sour lemon. She supposed it would suit, really.

She watched Rafe as he ate -- he wasn’t looking at her, for one reason or another. Perhaps he blamed her for whatever had come over their host -- which was very unfair, as she had done nothing to instigate any of it. Elsa set her jaw and lifted her nose, “Blame yourself for being rude,” she started, “to a lady.” Her faux-elitist expression faltered into a soft smirk. She was poking fun at herself in an effort to make him feel a little better -- what was wrong with her? Still, if it meant they could forget the whole fiasco, then so be it.

“What’s ‘going on’?” she looked at him. Where was this friendly chit-chat coming from? Did he know, or think he knew, something that she didn’t? The German picked up her sparkling apple juice and took a long sip to give herself time to formulate a response. Placing it back down carefully, she licked her lips and picked up her knife once more before speaking; her eyes were focused on her food intentionally, so as not to meet his eye and betray herself. “Quidditch, homework, the usual.” She took a bite, chewing and swallowing slowly. She didn't want anyone knowing about Séverin, but especially not Raphael. Better to turn the conversation back to him. “What about you? Gabrielle know you’re in love with her yet?”

A lady, she'd said. So free of connotation and mirth. In response, he offered Elisabeth a brief, sarcastic smile. A lady. He'd seen more elegant hippopotamuses with nicer demeanours but still. He'd learned his lesson and it was still throbbing in the back of his head as he ate.

Raphael arched an eyebrow and his handsome face remained impassive. If Elsa was hoping to hit him with a zinger, she was sorely mistaken. "I beg your pardon?" He asked politely as he dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin. To be honest, if anyone made it through Beaux batons without being in love with Gabrielle Delacour, they deserved to win a prize. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he went on as he neatly folded his napkin on his lap, keeping his hands busy in an effort to stave off his anxiety.

He'd dissected his feelings for Gabrielle before and they were definitive; he absolutely loathed her. He hated her. She was cruel and heartless and manipulative and she used sex as a weapon. But she was also polite and creative and smart and it was all giving him a headache.

"I think you're mistaking me for every other boy in the school," Rafe suggested politely with another smile as he sipped on his fruity drink. He and Gabby were friends but he couldn't help but feel like she was playing him like a fiddle. He didn't think she had any real friends and that was all her own doing. Elisabeth might have heard that he'd gotten into a fight with her boyfriend, Frank. Well, ex-boyfriend now, he supposed. It had nothing to do with her and everything to do with Frank's poor treatment of womankind.

He looked at Elisabeth sharply, his dark eyes seeming a little more like black in the bright sunshine. "You know me," he said briskly. "I don't believe in love. Or trust. Or relationships. Or fun. Which is why I'm having lunch with you," he added with a sunny smile.

Elisabeth looked at him innocently. “Oh,” she turned her attention back to her crêpes, shrugging her shoulders. “Silly me,” she rolled her eyes. “Of course, I forgot that you’re immune to her charms. Nothing like every other boy in the school.”

She shook her head at him with another roll of her eyes. She began cutting up her food with a little more ferocity. You know, it’s such a surprise that she isn’t head over heels for you, what with how positively delightful you are.” Her voice was dripping in sarcasm, not that she thought Raphael was unobservant enough not to notice. Then again, maybe.

She fixed him with an interested expression. “If you knew you were going to win,” she started, referring to their little bet, “why did you make having lunch with me your prize?” Elsa raised an eyebrow at him knowingly. She wasn’t stupid. She knew he could have picked anything – anyone – else, and he’d picked her. “Were you hoping she’d see us together?” she asked, glancing out the window at Gabby and Louis Proulx.

“I heard she’s broken up with my cousin.” She wrinkled her nose. Frank was family, but he wasn’t someone Elsa had ever really spent time with. She much preferred her other cousins. Elsa ate her food slowly, chewing and watching the way Louis was staring at Gabrielle. Thinking about how @Séverin Desrosiers had looked at her before he'd shoved her into a broom cupboard. “Why don’t you just tell her?” The German reached for her apple juice and took a gulp. “You boys are all the same,” she said firmly, going back to her pancakes. “Can’t just spit it out.”

Raphael blinked placidly. He did think he was immune to Gabrielle's charms. She made him angry but that was just her personality, it had nothing to do with whatever mystical ability she possessed. If Gabrielle wanted to flirt with him, she would have done instead of just steadfastly ignoring him. "You're right," he offered lightly. "I'm not the only boy in the school who thinks she's a raging bitch."

He grinned. "Right?" He laughed, his handsome face lighting up uncharacteristically. "You know, treat them mean, keep them keen," Rafe concluded with a salacious wink.

"Because I like free food?" He offered by way of Elisabeth's question before his face clouded over. Gabby this, Gabby that, Gabby fucking everything. He sighed deeply as he forced himself to relax. "I didn't even know she was here," he set her straight. "And if I wanted to make her jealous, I would have brought along one of her many minions." As Elsa's gaze strayed to @Gabrielle Delacour and her new adoring fan, it took a surprising amount of effort not to follow suit. "I don't think you're all bad," he admitted finally. "You're actually in my top ten list of people I don't despise," he added, deadpan.

"Congratulations to your cousin," Rafe added, sounding bored. In actual fact, he already knew. He tended to keep his ear close to the ground. He liked gossip and while he didn't stoke the fire, he most certainly did not extinguish it. With a frown, he tilted his head as he clocked her intense gaze at the pair of them outside. "Are you sure you aren't in love with her?" He asked, his eyebrows raised.

"There's absolutely nothing to tell Gabrielle," Raphael answered Elisabeth shortly. Girls like me don't date boys like you. He wasn't stupid. Gabrielle managed her relationships like Napoleon managed his troops. If someone wasn't useful to her, she ditched them. If they were unpopular, they weren't on her radar. If they were ugly deemed on unworthy, she didn't even look in their direction. It was cold, clinical and highly effective. "I wouldn't open myself up to that sort of emotional trauma." He didn't fancy being laughed at in the girls' dorm room.

Elisabeth's demeanour changed and it piqued his interest. "Oh no," he asked, his dark eyes wide as he leaned across the table a little closer to her. "This isn't about me at all, is it?" A slow and wicked smile spread across his lips, his eyes suddenly alight. She was projecting. "Trouble in paradise, sweet pea?"